use the back door.”
He watched as Lucia, Teresa, and Megan left. When he heard the door close behind them, he turned to Graciela. She’s fantastic, he thought. Maybe I’ll keep her with me, break her in to some cons. She could be a big help.
Graciela was watching him. “I’m ready.”
“Not yet.” Carrillo pretended to study her for a moment. “No, I’m afraid it won’t do. That dress is all wrong for you. Take it off.”
“But—why?”
“It doesn’t fit properly,” Carrillo said glibly. “People will notice, and you don’t want to attract attention.”
She hesitated, then moved behind a rack.
“Hurry, now. We have very little time.”
Awkwardly, Graciela slipped the dress over her head. She was in her panties and brassiere when Carrillo suddenly appeared.
“Take everything off.” His voice was husky.
Graciela stared at him. “What? No!” she cried. “I—I can’t. Please—I—”
Carrillo moved closer to her. “I’ll help you, Sister.”
His hands reached out and he ripped off her brassiere and tore at her panties.
“No!” she screamed. “You mustn’t! Stop it!”
Carrillo grinned. “Carita, we’re just getting started. You’re going to love this.”
His strong arms were around her. He forced her to the floor and lifted his robe.
It was as though a curtain in Graciela’s mind suddenly descended. It was the Moor trying to thrust himself inside her, tearing into the depths of her, and her mother’s shrill voice was screaming. And Graciela thought, terrified, No, not again. No, please—not again…
She was struggling fiercely now, fighting Carrillo off, trying to get up.
“Goddamn you,” he cried.
He slammed his fist into her face, and Graciela fell back, stunned and dizzy.
She found herself spinning back in time.
Back…Back…
C HAPTER S IX
Las Navas del Marqués, Spain
1950
S he was five years old. Her earliest memories were of a procession of naked strangers climbing in and out of her mother’s bed.
Her mother explained, “They are your uncles. You must show them respect.”
The men were gross and crude and lacked affection. They stayed for a night, a week, a month, and then vanished. When they left, Dolores Piñero would immediately look for a new man.
In her youth, Dolores Piñero had been a beauty, and Graciela had inherited her mother’s looks. Even as a child, Graciela was stunning to look at, with high cheekbones, an olive complexion, shiny black hair, and thick, long eyelashes. Her young body was nubile with promise.
With the passage of years, Dolores Piñero’s body had turned to fat and her wonderfully boned face had become bruised with the bitter blows of time. Although she was no longer beautiful, she was accessible, and she had the reputation of being a passionate bed partner. Making love was her one talent, and she employed it to try to please men into bondage, hoping to keep them by buying their love with her body. She made a meager living as a seamstress because she was an indifferent one, and was hired only by the women of the village who could not afford better.
Dolores Piñero despised her daughter, for she was a constant reminder of the one man whom she had ever loved. Graciela’s father was a handsome young mechanic who had proposed to the beautiful young Dolores, and she had eagerly let him seduce her. But when she broke the news that she was pregnant, he disappeared, leaving Dolores with the curse of his seed.
Dolores had a vicious temper, and she took out her vengeance on the child. Any time Graciela did something to displease her, her mother would hit her and scream, “You’re as stupid as your father!”
There was no way for the child to escape the rain of blows or the constant screaming. Graciela would wake up every morning and pray: Please, God, don’t let Mama beat me today. Please, God, make Mama happy today. Please, God, let Mama say she loves me today.
When she was not attacking Graciela, her mother ignored her.
He watched as Lucia, Teresa, and Megan left. When he heard the door close behind them, he turned to Graciela. She’s fantastic, he thought. Maybe I’ll keep her with me, break her in to some cons. She could be a big help.
Graciela was watching him. “I’m ready.”
“Not yet.” Carrillo pretended to study her for a moment. “No, I’m afraid it won’t do. That dress is all wrong for you. Take it off.”
“But—why?”
“It doesn’t fit properly,” Carrillo said glibly. “People will notice, and you don’t want to attract attention.”
She hesitated, then moved behind a rack.
“Hurry, now. We have very little time.”
Awkwardly, Graciela slipped the dress over her head. She was in her panties and brassiere when Carrillo suddenly appeared.
“Take everything off.” His voice was husky.
Graciela stared at him. “What? No!” she cried. “I—I can’t. Please—I—”
Carrillo moved closer to her. “I’ll help you, Sister.”
His hands reached out and he ripped off her brassiere and tore at her panties.
“No!” she screamed. “You mustn’t! Stop it!”
Carrillo grinned. “Carita, we’re just getting started. You’re going to love this.”
His strong arms were around her. He forced her to the floor and lifted his robe.
It was as though a curtain in Graciela’s mind suddenly descended. It was the Moor trying to thrust himself inside her, tearing into the depths of her, and her mother’s shrill voice was screaming. And Graciela thought, terrified, No, not again. No, please—not again…
She was struggling fiercely now, fighting Carrillo off, trying to get up.
“Goddamn you,” he cried.
He slammed his fist into her face, and Graciela fell back, stunned and dizzy.
She found herself spinning back in time.
Back…Back…
C HAPTER S IX
Las Navas del Marqués, Spain
1950
S he was five years old. Her earliest memories were of a procession of naked strangers climbing in and out of her mother’s bed.
Her mother explained, “They are your uncles. You must show them respect.”
The men were gross and crude and lacked affection. They stayed for a night, a week, a month, and then vanished. When they left, Dolores Piñero would immediately look for a new man.
In her youth, Dolores Piñero had been a beauty, and Graciela had inherited her mother’s looks. Even as a child, Graciela was stunning to look at, with high cheekbones, an olive complexion, shiny black hair, and thick, long eyelashes. Her young body was nubile with promise.
With the passage of years, Dolores Piñero’s body had turned to fat and her wonderfully boned face had become bruised with the bitter blows of time. Although she was no longer beautiful, she was accessible, and she had the reputation of being a passionate bed partner. Making love was her one talent, and she employed it to try to please men into bondage, hoping to keep them by buying their love with her body. She made a meager living as a seamstress because she was an indifferent one, and was hired only by the women of the village who could not afford better.
Dolores Piñero despised her daughter, for she was a constant reminder of the one man whom she had ever loved. Graciela’s father was a handsome young mechanic who had proposed to the beautiful young Dolores, and she had eagerly let him seduce her. But when she broke the news that she was pregnant, he disappeared, leaving Dolores with the curse of his seed.
Dolores had a vicious temper, and she took out her vengeance on the child. Any time Graciela did something to displease her, her mother would hit her and scream, “You’re as stupid as your father!”
There was no way for the child to escape the rain of blows or the constant screaming. Graciela would wake up every morning and pray: Please, God, don’t let Mama beat me today. Please, God, make Mama happy today. Please, God, let Mama say she loves me today.
When she was not attacking Graciela, her mother ignored her.
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